


1001 nights.

by ElysiumDreams



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arabian Nights Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Drabble, Drama, I don't know how to tag this, Kings & Queens, M/M, Mentions of Death, Panwink Week, jihoon is kind of a dick, scheherazade au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:55:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElysiumDreams/pseuds/ElysiumDreams
Summary: In which Jihoon is a king that marries someone new every single day, until Guanlin comes along.





	1001 nights.

**Author's Note:**

> UH HELLO???
> 
> This is my absolute garbage piece for day 2 of Panwink Week, Fantasy and Reality. It's an AU based on the story of Scheherazade, or the narrator of 1001 Arabian Nights. If you're unfamiliar with the story, then you should check it out!
> 
> Anyways, this was probably the story I was most excited to write for PWWeek, but as the date actually neared, I found that I had no clue what I was doing?? So this story is kind of a HUGE mess, it's unbeta'd, and it also feels really really rushed, so I'm super super sorry that it's not my best. Still, I hope you all can enjoy it because I really wanted to get something written for you all, even if it's a 2/10 at best... Also because Penny and Ser really wanted me to finish this one hopsgsh
> 
> Ok goodbye I'm done rambling please don't hate me after reading this one since it's so horrible ghpsohsh

“So unfortunate. Yet another life lost to the king’s selfishness.”

 

Such gossip had always found its way throughout Jihoon palace, bouncing back and forth between noblemen and guards, maids and servants. He’s heard it far too many times, that if he were to punish them for the rumors, then the death toll within his kingdom would merely double in size.

 

This time, he hears these words from a servant who works before him, cleaning bloodstains that have spilled upon the floor of the throne room. Jihoon’s last victim. The last person he had taken for his wife.

 

Mina had been kind. Beautiful too. He had been told that she liked to dance, and after their wedding ceremony, Jihoon had danced with her for hours before taking her to bed, where she had cried and begged for her life. Jihoon had done his best to comfort her before taking her to the throne room, watching from his golden seat as she was beheaded right before his eyes.

 

The executions had began with Jungeun— she had been beautiful, but cunning too, unfaithful. Her infidelity had been her downfall, and the downfall of Jihoon’s future wives and husbands, unaccountable to this very day.

 

Jihoon watches briefly as the last drop of blood is cleaned from the floor. He barely flinches when the servant glares up at him. By now, he’s used to his staffs’ scrutiny and disapproval of ways. None have dared to defy his wishes however, lest they wish death upon themselves instead.

 

“My king,” another servant enters as the other leaves. This one’s tone is firmer, as if he is much more comfortable with speaking to the king than most of the other servants without the palace. He watches said servant as he kneels before him, only waiting for Jihoon’s signal before he rises once more.

 

“Jinyoung,” he hums contently. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show today.”

 

Jinyoung looks up at the king before approaching slowly, still keeping his distance as he’s been advised to do so. Jihoon’s eyes, though bored, are piecing and strong, and even a close friend like Jinyoung finds it hard to look up at him so boldly. “I just didn’t want to be around for the execution, that’s all,” Jinyoung murmurs back. “But I am here now to make sure you’re prepared for your next wedding.”

 

“Ah, I see…” Jihoon hums, leaning against the armrest of his throne. “Then you have found a suitable spouse for me?”

 

Jinyoung nods in response. “Indeed, I have. It’s the vizier’s son. His name is Lai Guanlin.”

 

Lai Guanlin. He’s heard the name around the palace before, and it’s often accompanied with great talks of his beauty, as well as his wisdom and knowledge. Hardly a surprise, considering his father is the vizier of Jihoon’s kingdom. 

 

Still, Jihoon doesn’t recall a time where he has seen Guanlin for himself. He remains a mystery to be untold— that is, until the wedding ceremony meant to happen in a few hours.

 

Jihoon looks out the palace windows. The sun is about to rise in the skies, signaling a fresh, new start of a day; a new life for Jihoon to begin with a new husband too. He hums contently as he stares at the sun, leaning his cheek on his hand.

 

“Have you met this Guanlin before, Jinyoung?”

 

Jinyoung blinks a little. “I have, your highness.”

 

“Is he as beautiful as the rumors say he is?”

 

There is a pause that follows. Jihoon waits patiently for Jinyoung’s response, and the servant answers simply.

 

“I suppose you’ll have to decide that for yourself, your highness.”

 

—

 

When Jihoon had first began his daily wedding ceremonies, he found it best to create a separate room for them— one in which decorations would hang eternally, and wine and delicious food would always be stocked, simply for convenience. If the weddings were to be a daily occurrence, then why not be prepared for it already?

 

One thing that Jihoon does like to change day by day are the robes he chooses to wear for the ceremony. One day, it’s a royal blue that contrasts well with his tanned skin. The next, it’s a fiery red, one that seems to match his own power and status as a king— or perhaps to match the bloodshed in his own court.

 

Today he chooses white.

 

It’s an odd occurrence for the king to be seen in such a color— it’s drastically different than the flashy, bright ones that his court are used to seeing him adorn. But Jihoon feels that white suits today— he’s not quite sure why, but as he admires himself in the large mirror that sits in his room, white just… feels right for today.

 

There’s a knock on the door that captures Jihoon’s attention, and his eyes immediately follow. He watches as Jinyoung enters, lowering his head immediately as he attends to his side.

 

“Your highness. Everything is prepared for today’s ceremony,” he speaks calmly. “We only await your presence in the hall.”

 

Jihoon nods in understanding, taking a deep breath as if he hasn’t done this before, as if he hadn’t brought this on himself. Once he’s calmed a bit, he looks over at Jinyoung again and hums, folding his arms properly in front of him before nodding once more. “Okay. I’m ready to go.”

 

With that, he follows Jinyoung, out of his room and into the corridor, pacing himself as he walks to the wedding hall. It’s eerily quiet somehow; he’s used to more chatter, but the court seems to be more silent that usual today when he enters the room. 

 

Music plays. His subjects look to him as he enters. Usually, it is the bride that walks down the aisle, but as the king, Jihoon finds it fitting that he is the one to walk down it instead. After all, this is his kingdom, his spectacle to behold.

 

At the end of the aisle, Jihoon can see another male waiting. His tall stature is the first thing he notices, along with how slender he appears to be. In contrast to Jihoon’s white, the male wears an all black ensemble that makes him look even more sleek. His face is hidden behind a thin black veil, and as he nears, Jihoon squints, trying to get a peek of him beneath the pesky sheet.

 

Jihoon doesn’t even realize how close he’s gotten to him until he’s actually standing at the altar across from him, the veil suddenly doing nothing to hide the other’s appearance. Beneath it, he can see soft features; the boy is young, soft skin, wide, downturned eyes, and a high nose upon his face. His lips are full and red, and the only thing Jihoon cannot take in is the milky color of his skin, but he gets an idea from how vividly his pale hands contrast the black of his outfit. 

 

This is Lai Guanlin, Jihoon thinks. His husband of the day.

 

As their wedding is officiated, Jihoon can’t help but to stare. Guanlin does not look up at him, and he is certain that it is out of fear. He doesn’t blame him, however. Who wouldn’t be afraid of someone like him? And knowing his fate, Guanlin must be terrified. He’s not sure how the boy isn’t shaking on the altar, most of his past wives and husbands tended to. 

 

Guanlin is beautiful though, Jihoon thinks, and it truly is a shame that a face like his will never see daylight again after today. Jihoons eyes do not waver in looking up at the boy, and when the time finally comes for him to lean in and remove the veil from his face, Jihoon does so without a sound reaching forward and moving the piece of cloth away from his face.

 

At the sight of the other’s eyes, Jihoon’s breath catches in his throat.

 

Guanlin is not afraid. As he looks at him, Jihoon sees everything but fear. He sees patience and wisdom, naivety and bravery. Worst of all, he sees kindness, and the very emotion sends a chill down his spine as Guanlin finally brings himself to smile at the king, reaching out to hold his hands in his. Even the way that he touches him, Jihoon feels strange, a pain stinging at his heart at the boy leans down and presses his lips to his. 

 

—

 

Like past wedding ceremonies, Jihoon revels in the celebration, the dancing and drinking, music and festivities that take place after the initial marriage. This time, it is no different, but as he and his subjects dance the night away, he cannot help but feel like there is something that is terribly amiss.  

 

He remembers his past partners, the worry in their eyes as they held tightly on to Jihoon’s hands, swaying with him on the dance floor. It was as if they were hoping that perhaps if they had pleased Jihoon enough through their dancing, then perhaps he would spare their lives, let them live, even for just a day more. But each attempt had been in vain, and Jihoon had never enjoyed a dance with them again.

 

But with Guanlin, everything is different. 

 

To begin with, the boy is clumsy. He eagerly tangles his fingers with Jihoon’s before he starts to move, feet moving at a pace at which Jihoon can hardly keep up. The king looks at him wildly— just what is this boy thinking?

 

And then he hears laughter. Amidst Guanlin’s wreckless movements and clumsy footing, he hears a laugh escape from his lips. If the other weren’t pulling him along so wildly, then perhaps Jihoon would stop altogether, but in the moment, he merely stares, watching as Guanlin’s eyes light up with every move, every step that he takes together with Jihoon.

 

Jihoon can’t believe it. What’s wrong with him? Shouldn’t he be afraid? Doesn’t he know that the clock is ticking, that he has mere  _ hours  _ now left to live?

 

If he does, Guanlin seems to pay no attention to the fact. Rather he enjoys himself, smiling down at Jihoon as the song finally slows a little, and so does he. He’s out of breath, and as he pants for air, he leans in close to Jihoon, resting his head atop his.

 

“Ah… I’m so tired,” Guanlin groans before letting out another soft chuckle, one that makes Jihoon’s heart clench in his chest.

 

“Would you like to rest then?” Jihoon asks, one small kindness that he finds does not hurt to ask.

 

Guanlin’s eyes light up immediately with the statement. “Can we? I would love that, actually.”

 

“Of course we can,” Jihoon nods. His hand tightens around Guanlin’s before he tugs him along, leading him in the direction of his room. “Come.”

 

Obediently, Guanlin follows. The smile upon his face never falters, and Jihoon finds annoyance in it, in the fact that Guanlin doesn’t at all seem to be afraid of what is to come. 

 

“Here we are,” Jihoon announces as he opens the door to his room, allowing Guanlin in first before he follows behind. The younger male’s eyes seem to widen in awe as he takes a look at the spectacular sight.

 

Of all the rooms in his palace, Jihoon’s favorite is indeed his own personal quarters. It’s decorated so intricately and ornately, in a way that suits a king, but Jihoon finds is not too much either. The bed is golden with four posts surrounding its edges, a canopy draped beautifully around it. Candles illuminate the room with a soft, golden glow, and simple furniture lines the perimeter. He doesn’t see the need for much else, however; flashier things like gold and jewelry are meant for people to see, he thinks, and in a place such as his own bedroom… He’d rather keep a space private, all to himself.

 

“Wow,” Guanlin finally breathes out, still scanning the room with his bright, wide eyes. “This is… Incredible.”

 

“You like it then?” Jihoon hums, pushing the canopy over his bed to the side so he can sit comfortably on the mattress. Guanlin nods in response.

 

“It’s very beautiful, your highness,” Guanlin says. He continues to pace around, only stopping when his eyes reach the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

 

Guanlin’s mood seems to shift entirely then, and Jihoon takes note of it, perking up as he watches his eyes fill with an emotion that seems to be much different than the demeanor that he’s grown so used to from the other in the few hours that he’s known him. “Guanlin?” he asks but Guanlin doesn’t respond, only blindly walks towards the bookshelf, as if it had been beckoning him over, and not Jihoon himself.

 

When he finally reaches the shelf, Jihoon watches from behind as Guanlin stares, running his fingers along the spines of the books in a mesmerized state.  _ Ah,  _ Jihoon thinks.  _ He must love to read.  _ An attribute most of his former partners have never really had themselves. 

 

Most of the books on the shelf are old. Jihoon had received them from friends in different kingdoms when he had first ascended to the throne, from family members and court officials that wished to help further his knowledge. It’s been a while since he’s touched any of them, but it’s still rather intriguing, to watch the way that Guanlin looks over all of them, as if he’s taking in their contents just by tracing them with his fingers.

 

“Do you like to read?” Jihoon asks, unmoving from his bed. Guanlin nods softly, before letting a hand drop to his side.

 

“I do,” he replies. “Do you? You have quite the collection of books.”

 

“Mmm, I suppose I do,” Jihoon replies, finally standing from his bed and moving to where Guanlin stands. Except, instead of waiting beside him, he creeps behind and wraps his arms around the younger’s torso, pressing his cheek to his back and hugging him close. 

 

Guanlin is warm, Jihoon thinks. Even as he feels him tense in his arms, Guanlin is warm, somehow comforting and comfortable, even when he’s the one clinging to him, and not the other way around. Jihoon closes his eyes as he hums. “I haven’t picked up a book in a while though… There have been far too many things that have distracted me from simply picking up a book whenever I’d like to.”

 

Guanlin’s breath hitches then, and Jihoon smirks. He can practically smell the fear that’s begun to radiate off of Guanlin. It’s faint, but it’s there, and it’s what he had wanted. “Like what?” Guanlin breathes out softly, his long body still tense in Jihoon’s hold. 

 

“Do you really want to know?” Jihoon asks, voice low and sickly-sweet. 

 

He waits for a response, a sound, something, and when Guanlin finally nods, Jihoon allows himself into action. Without a word, he spins the other around and immediately takes his cheeks into his hands, steps up on to his tippy toes to press a firm kiss on to Guanlin’s lips.

 

Of course, it is not the first kiss that they’ve shared, but it’s much different than the one that had been merely for show. Jihoon remembers it as a small peck, a symbol to seal their marriage and appease the audiences before them.

 

This… This is much different, Jihoon thinks, his intentions far from innocent with this kiss as he drags Guanlin down, allowing him to wrap his arms around his waist as he pulls his body closer.

 

As expected, Guanlin is clumsy, but he’s eager, and Jihoon supposes that it makes up for his lack of experience. He hums gratefully against the younger’s lips before drawing him even closer, starts moving, dragging Guanlin along until the back of the taller boy’s knees hit the edge of the bed, sending him down to lie on the sheets beneath them.

 

Jihoon kisses him again, straddling his waist and making himself comfortable inn his lap as he tilts his head, fitting their lips perfectly together. It’s hot, and Jihoon feels himself quickly becoming short of breath with each passing second. Guanlin’s hands are all over him, and his kisses are addicting, leaving Jihoon wanting more with every lingering moment.

 

And then he feels it. Something wet, damp against his cheek. A sniffle sounds close by, and Jihoon’s heart clenches before he finally pulls away, looking down at Guanlin below him.

 

He’s crying. His eyes and cheeks are wet with tears, and he’s sniffling softly, swollen lips doing their best to swallow down the sounds. Even so, he does not look away from Jihoon, glassy eyes staring straight up in to Jihoon’s, full of fear, worry, and regret. 

 

Jihoon’s stomach twists. This is what he had wanted, by why does it feel so wrong?

 

“What is it?” Jihoon asks, fingers shaking as he reaches down to touch Guanlin’s cheek, wiping away tears that linger. “Are you scared, is that it?” 

 

Surprisingly, Guanlin shakes his head. The answer only leaves Jihoon confused, and he swipes his thumb underneath his eye, collecting the moisture that’s still there. “Then what is it? Why are you crying?”

 

Guanlin takes a minute before he can finally speak again, hiccuping a little and swallowing his tears. Still, his eyes never look away from Jihoon’s as he finally speaks in a soft, broken voice.

 

“I want… I want to be able to tell my sister a story one last time.”

 

At his words, Jihoon blinks. It’s certainly not an answer he had been anticipating, not something he had been expecting at all, and it catches him off guard, his hand falling to his side as he looks down at the other incredulously. “You… You what?”

 

“I want to tell my sister a story. Before I die. It is my final wish,” Guanlin chokes out. His glassy eyes practically beg for Jihoon to listen to him.

 

Truth be told, it is not the first time that his partners have asked for favors just before their deaths. Most asked for silly things though, like a final glass of wine, or to listen to music on last time. This, however, is a request Jihoon had not at all been expecting, especially from a handsome boy like Guanlin. He stares long and hard at him as he processes his words, still thinking even after minutes pass.

 

“Please,” Guanlin asks once more. “It is all I ask of you.” 

 

Jihoon hesitates, staring down long and hard at Guanlin with the request. As he stares down at his glassy eyes, he finds that he can’t bring himself to so no— but what’s the harm in it anyways? Come sunrise, Guanlin will die. It won’t hurt to allow him this one final wish.

 

“Fine,” Jihoon finally says. “You may tell your sister one last story before sunrise. Lets go.” 

 

He comes off of Guanlin’s lap immediately, handing him a small piece of cloth to dry his tears. The other stands too, taking the hankerchief and using it to wipe his cheeks, only smiling at Jihoon once they’re all gone.

 

“Thank you,” he comments quietly. “I can lead the way. Our shared room is right beside our father’s.” 

 

At that, Jihoon nods in response, following Guanlin out as he leads him to their destination. He knows where the vizier’s room is, but he hasn’t visited very often. Usually it would be the other way around, the vizier coming to knock on his doors late at night to discuss political matters of the utmost importance. To be honest, he had no idea that the room just beside his housed his children, and up until now, he hadn’t even known that the vizier has two.

 

“This is it,” Guanlin says, stopping just before the door. He smiles softly before running his hand over it, biting his lip in hesitation. 

 

Jihoon isn’t used to this… Being kind to partners in their final hours. Usually it’s some kind of sadism, taking pleasure in listening to their cries to let them live. Guanlin, however, hasn’t asked for any of that. Instead, he stands behind him, watching as he opens the door and hesitantly walks inside.

 

“Guanlin?” a rather feminine voice exclaims. Guanlin comes running then, flinging himself into the arms of another person that sits there in the room. The sudden action takes Jihoon by surprise, but he follows anyways, his eyes landing upon the sight of his partner embracing who he assumes must be his younger sister.

 

For a moment, they’re both distracted. But as she feels eyes upon her, the sister opens her eyes. They land on Jihoon, staring for a moment before widening in surprise. Immediately, she pushes herself away from Guanlin and bows.

 

“Your highness,” she speaks clearly. “It is an honor.”

 

Despite her words, Jihoon can clearly hear the venom in her voice.

 

“You may rise,” he commands, watching her as she does as he’s told. “What is your name?”

 

“Meiyun,” she replies with ease, but does not let her eyes meet Jihoon’s.

 

“Meiyun…” Jihoon tries. Then he turns over to Guanlin, who looks to be stiff as a board. It’s as if he’s anxious over the conversation that takes place before him, watching the both of them like a hawk, and eager to sweep in at any moment to intervene. “Well, Meiyun, your brother wishes to tell you a story, and as your king, I have allowed it. I will sit and observe as he does so, however.”

 

Guanlin looks straight at him then. Jihoon easily senses the surprise in his glance, but he pays no mind to it, only taking pleasure in his displeasure. He does as he has said he would, taking a seat in the corner of the room, buried comfortably underneath his own robes and humming, looking up at the siblings as they stare back at him.

 

“Well?” Jihoon laughs. “You don’t have all night.” 

 

He knows he’s intruding. And he knows that both siblings want him to leave, but Jihoon doesn’t want to. This is perhaps the most fun he’s had all day, antagonizing the both of them, and watching as Guanlin finally sits down beside Meiyun, starts telling her a story, just as promised.

 

“Once upon a time, there was this little prince…”

 

It’s so cliche, Jihoon thinks. Just like every fairytale that he’s ever heard. This one about a prince and a poor boy, living in the same world.

 

Still, Jihoon hasn’t heard it before. The story is long, and he notices how Meiyun seems to be latched on to every word he says, watching him with bright eyes full of wonder and awe. Guanlin does not stutter with his words, each syllable leaving his lips like the smoothest wine.

 

He doesn’t even begin to realize that his own interest has been piqued as well— before he knows it, Jihoon is anticipating each word that he speaks, each progression in the story that seems to drag on and on endlessly.

 

Still, Jihoon does not mind. He doesn’t even notice the hours ticking away. For him, there is only Guanlin and the story that he tells, the way his lips move, and the way that mere words seem to come to life with the way that Guanlin tells his story.

Jihoon has become absolutely hooked.

 

It’s then that Guanlin’s eyes peek over at him, capturing his gaze. Jihoon doesn’t miss it, and as their eyes meet, he feels his heart stop completely in his chest— just like an arrow shot straight through it.

 

Guanlin stops then, and the whole world of fantasy he had created with the sound of his voice suddenly shatters to pieces.

 

“Dawn is coming,” he whispers softly, solemnly. “I think I must end the story here.

 

_ No,  _ Jihoon thinks immediately, eyes widening as he looks out the window. Sure enough, the sun has begun to rise in the sky. Death awaits Guanlin.

 

“You can’t,” Meiyun cries before him, clinging to his robes. Jihoon had forgotten all about her, forgotten she was there in the first place.

 

At her pleading, Guanlin smiles somberly, patting her head as she buries her face into his chest, sobbing sadly. “I’m sorry. King Jihoon has already been so kind to allow me the pleasure of telling you one last story, I cannot take advantage of such kindness any longer.”

 

Another sob. Jihoon feels his heart ache at the sight beside him.

 

“Please…” Meiyun sobs. “Please don’t go. It’s not fair.”

 

“She’s right.”

 

Suddenly, Jihoon’s voice echoes through the room before he can even register that he’s speaking. He surprises himself, but he’s certain in the words he wants to say. “It’s not fair. You should finish the story for her.”

 

Guanlin blinks at him, as if he can’t believe the words he’s saying. “Come on,” Jihoon continues. “Don’t you want to finish the story? I’m allowing it.. Just this once.”

 

Again, Guanlin just stares, and Jihoon stares back. It’s as if they’re battling— who will break first, let up and look away. The same courage and strength that he had first seen in Guanlin’s eyes returns, and as fearsome as it may be, Jihoon is a king, and he will not falter, no matter how piercing the other’s gaze may be.

 

Finally, Guanlin nods. “Alright, I shall finish the story.” 

 

Meiyun looks up at Guanlin with teary eyes as he continues, and Jihoon looks at him too, watching as the words begins to flow from his mouth once more, like a rushing river of words and sounds. Just like a river, it is smooth and luscious, and just like a river, it’s unexpected and powerful. Within seconds, he’s hooked once more, as he listens to Guanlin finish up the story that he had began the previous night.

 

Just like a river, Guanlin is so smooth that he does not even realize that he’s being drawn into another story; not until he realizes that the characters and settings are different this time, and yet, he’s still unable to stop himself from listening to the sound of his voice.

 

Even when his servants come in to check up on him, he simply shoos them off, only demanding for them to return with food and drink, no only for himself, but for Guanlin and Meiyun too.

 

They take a break around noon just to eat. It’s silent, and the whole time, Jihoon simply anticipates the moment Guanlin begins his story once again.

 

It’s mind boggling, how one man can keep his attention locked on him for so long. Each word that leaves Guanlin’s lips has Jihoon not only hooked on the story, but hooked on him as well, the way his lips move, and the way his eyes portray emotions in the story. It’s as if a whole galaxy, a whole world explodes behind them, and Jihoon is stuck exploring them endlessly, caught in Guanlin’s story.

 

Again, dawn approaches and Guanlin comes to a stop. But this time, it is not Meiyun begging for her brother to finish the story. Instead, Jihoon rises first, speaking in a clear, yet desperate voice.

 

“You must finish the story. I must hear the end of it.”

 

And just as he had the night before, Guanlin continues. He speaks, tells his stories without stopping and the cycle continues on and on.

 

It’s perhaps been days since they’ve left the room— years maybe— Jihoon has lost count. The stories that Guanlin has to tell are endless, and Jihoon finds himself clinging to every word that he speaks. 

 

The obsession must be unhealthy, he’s certain. He’s had food delivered to the room night and day without fail, just so he can continue to listen to his stories, just so he can hear the sound of Guanlin’s voice painting pictures in his mind for him.

 

And then, on the final night, Guanlin rises, a sigh escaping from his throat.

 

“I am afraid I have no more stories to tell.” 

 

The words hit him like a train— Jihoon had never imagined that a day like this would come, in which Guanlin would run out of words, in which universes would no longer be built from each brilliant syllable he speaks. He only stares dumbfounded at the other for a long moment, trying to find a response, something to say in return, but nothing seems proper.

 

Guanlin deserves so much more than a thank you for the nights he’s spent telling his countless stories without ever faltering. Not even the most talented dancers in his palace could compare to the hours and hours of entertainment and joy that he’s brought him. 

 

The choice seems simple, really. Jihoon stares longingly at the man in front of him, pacing towards him slowly, before finally dropping to his knees, bowing at Guanlin’s feet.

 

He is a king. Meant to bow to no one. But Guanlin has brought him to his knees with mere words from his lips, captured his heart with the hours spent by his side.

 

“Thank you,” he finally brings himself to speak. “For your beautiful stories. For the countless hours spent telling them to your sister— to me.”

 

He doesn’t look up, but he can feel Guanlin’s eyes staring down at him, hears the gasp that escapes from Meiyun’s lips as he continues. “As a sign of my gratitude… And to show how much it means to me… J wish to make you my husband for the rest of my life. If that is alright with you, of course.”

 

It is unlikely, Jihoon knows. Guanlin is kindhearted, but to what extent, he is uncertain. Jihoon has threatened his life, kept him hostage for days just for the sake of telling him stories. But his fondness and adoration for the boy has undoubtedly grown in that time, and even without stories to tell, Jihoon knows that he wants to keep Guanlin around for a long, long time.

 

After some time passes, Jihoon finally looks up. The younger stares down at him with an unexpected look of kindness and sincerity in his eyes. He allows Jihoon to stand once more before he takes his hands in his, giving a gentle squeeze and the loveliest smile that Jihoon has ever seen in his life.

 

“I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

And with that, Jihoon smiles.

 

The stories that Guanlin had told all varied in genre; Jihoon remembers some stories that told of thieves and kings, and some stories that told of lovers and witches. Jihoon wonders where their story falls in this spectrum, what kind of universe the two of them exist within his stories.

 

Perhaps theirs is not a love story that is… Conventional, in a sense. Perhaps theirs is not a love story at all. But Jihoon knows for certain that their story is perhaps his favorite, no matter it’s beginning, and no matter the parts in between.

 

For Jihoon is determined to make the ending the best it can possibly be.


End file.
